When we're 'Young' some are given an over load of 'information' that we have zero idea how to absorb, in a useful sense.

Years later, and BANG ON!!

What kicked my brain was a 14 year old "Sea Scout" showing me how to sharpen a knife/blade. Kid could put a raz-edge on the things. I couldn't sharpen a stick.

40 ++ years later and 'I got it!!'

That was my every Thursday morning bit at the Sr. Food prep center. Tools out and sharpened them all. Walked around to 'my knife drawers' and pulled them out. Razor edges on all.

Took a few months, but folks would walk up and 'This is pretty dull, can you put an edge on it for me?' Couple of minutes later and you could 'shave' with the thing. Nothing more dangerous than a dull knife.

Throughout my lifetime, I have been one of the lucky few who became "the student" early on, learning first-hand that the world was my teacher. It began with my grandfather, a big and quiet man whose rules were simple: "Respect others, especially your elders, and learn from them," "speak when it was required,(as in a question)" and one of my personal favorites... "If you have to cuss, do it quietly and out of earshot of your grandmother." And, growing up adherring to the above didn't hurt me one bit!

For example, I could sit for hours and watch the strands of cedar curl over the blade of an old spoke-shave or draw-knife as another of my grandfather's hand-wrought decoys slowly took shape from a section of an old fence-post. To this day, I still can handle what some would call an "antiquated" tool.

And, while my grandfather also taught me the rudimentary skills of fly tying, it was "Doc" Holship and the late Montgomery Jackson who took those skills to a whole new level. They also helped to shorten my fly-casting learning curve in many ways, showing me "tricks of the trade" that might have taken years for me to discover on my own.

Those who've been there, done that and got the t-shirt are walking encyclopedias of knowledge and "river smarts" that no book can fully tap into in its entirety. I've been blessed with a lifetime of teachers who were friends, and friends who became teachers, and doubly-blessed to have recognized it early. When knowledge is extended for nothing more than the cost of your time, respect and acknowledge their years and pay the price of admission. The potential dividends are HUGE, with a payoff unlike any other investment.

When a man stops adding to his personal wealth by learning something new each day, even the little things, his life becomes poorer by its loss because we only pass this way but once...

When I last posted this morning, I was in an upbeat and very positive place. The river walk had cleared my head, and the fact that my outstanding obligation on "Sam's" grave marker was within $130 reach had me feeling very blessed on this Easter Sunday.

My comfort level in that position changed a few moments ago, and all in the span of a five-minute phone call. One of the fishing cronies who'd made a promise of $250 toward "Sam's" project had to withdraw his offer, and I could literally feel his pain over the phone. He and his wife arrived home from church to find his truck literally destroyed-- tires slashed, windows and windshield broken out, and enough body work to keep a shop busy for the next month. The vandals also had taken a couple of his rods/reels from behind the seat, just for kicks, I guess.

The long and the short of it has raised by total funding needs to closer to $400 now. Yet, this turn of events is just one more twist in the road. I've been faced with challenges before, and the saints be praised, I'm still standing. And, I won't rest until I finish what I started, certainties notwithstanding. As Pliny the Elder once wrote... "In these matters, the only certainty is that there is nothing certain..."

"Sam's" marker now has been delivered and is in the capable hands of the carver/stone cutter who will make it what it needs to be-- a tribute! Thanks to friends-- aka "cronies of the angled fly" --the marker has been paid for and delivered. And, to all who supported the cause, you have my heartfelt gratitude and respect.

Within a week or so, I'm going ahead with selling off some larger collection of flies and give whatever monies come in from the sales to "Sam's" folks. They were one of the first ones here when we lost Laramie, and I intend to return their support in kind. More details will be forthcoming...

I thought you'd want to know that this marker will stand as a monument not just to the girl I knew as "Sam," but to all of the anglers who helped me make it happen... Jerry, aka hairwing530

The work continues on "Sam's" marker, and we're in the midst of planning a mid-week gathering at The Chapel over on the Mason Tract just after the opener. "My kids" all are going to be there, as will a growing group of family and friends. If I can unload a few more boxes of flies-- I'm putting together some special boxes made up for the occasion --I won't be digging too deep into my "rod/reel/materials/fly" funds.

Again, my friends, thank you for your able assist on this project. Somewhere, a pair of young girls will smile down upon us as we go about collecting more river memories in the season ahead... Jerry, aka hairwing530

In less than five short hours, I will again stand before a packed church and try to keep my emotional balance. The delivering of eulogies is becoming far too frequent these days, but I can't-- and won't --shirk my duties in fulfilling a promise made. I'm praying that the baring my proverbial soul via my words will lend comfort to some, and let the rest know how truly special a child we've all recently lost. Yes, she was another of "my kids..."

It never gets any easier, no matter how much I share from the front of a church. In fact, I believe that it grows harder each time, as the losses have something of a cumulative effect. Each compounds the last, and handling them without buckling under the onslaught is becoming more and more of a personal juggling act.

But, I will be there, as promised. And, once the services are done, my wife and I will travel north again, making one more stop along the way. You see, our visit to the cemetary and the graves of our two daughters yesterday found a path of destruction that defies my description without resorting to some very colorful language. More than 80 grave markers and headstones were vandalized during a drunken spree, given the huge number of beer cans spread throughout the cemetary. My cronie who's handling the carving of "Sam's" headstone will be meeting us there to assess the damage done and the prospects of salvaging the markers of our daughters graves.

Will somebody please explain to me the reasons behind actions so petty? I'm having a difficult time trying to understand the sort of mentality that sets out to destroy our final tributes to our loved ones...